"When I first met you, I honestly didn't know you were gonna be this important to me."

-Anonymous

Valedictorian of young adult shows

Wednesday night, the class of Holly Hills High School graduated and went their separate ways to record numbers.

The show's final episode had a record 26.3 million viewers watching, which equals the main bowl game and the awards season.

The show's four-year plan involving a group of teenagers as they made their way through high school was a popular with young adults and eventually bringing in a large age range of followers led their fans on a roller coaster of highs and lows including the death of two main characters as well as dealing with current social issues such as gay rights, drug use, underage drinking, bullying, eating disorders, to name a few. The tag line "sometimes there is no happy ending" resonated loudly in this series, no more so than the final season.

Now that the show is over, the actors and actresses are moving on to different roles and the team that created this breakout hit have no announced plans on any upcoming projects.

After the success of Ever After, millions are waiting with bated breath to see their next hit.

The ringing of the phone pulled Tad out of a dream involving Amy Adams and Helena Bonham Carter. He patted the outdoor table next to him, almost spilling his drink in the process.

"Shit!" He was wide awake now, swinging his feet over the lounge chair on the roof and trying to catch the tilting bottle while grabbing his phone with the other hand.

He saved the bottle and gave a small sigh of relief.

"Hello?" he answered breathlessly. He didn't bother checking the ID, he could count the number of people who had this particular number on one hand.

"Hello from sunny Hillwood, son!" Tad grinned at his father's dry humor.

"Let me guess, it's raining again?" he joked.

"Day five of this glorious weather." His father sighed. "Which leads me to the reason I'm calling."

"I'm not about to send you my sunny weather."

No, no, nothing like that. Although I'm afraid the natives would cower in fear over the bright globe in the sky if you did send any. Your mother slipped down the front stairs yesterday."

Tad shot to his feet. "Is she okay?"

"No. She's in the hospital. Broke her leg in three places, her foot in two, and has a hairline fracture in her pelvis."

"Well, at least our family never does anything halfway," he joked weakly, already walking towards the interior of the house.

"That we don't," His father agreed. "I hate to ask you Tad, she's laid up for the minimum a month before she can start walking again. Or at the very least hobbling. The doctor wants to keep her in the hospital for the rest of this week, but I have the shop and there's no way I can keep that up as well as keep an eye on your mother. And you know how she is, the minute she gets bored…"

"She'll convinced herself she can still do everything and will end up hurting herself more, yes, I know." He finished. "What do you need?"

"I was thinking if you weren't working on anything this coming month, maybe you could come visit. Help me take care of your mom, see the sites, visit with old friends."

"Dad, all my old friends are here with me."

Helga looked up from where she was sitting at the kitchen bar table writing, a questioning look directed towards him as he walked through the room. He waved off her unasked question with a I'll tell you in a minute.

"All the same. I understand if you're busy, but…"

"No, Dad. Hel and I are taking a much-deserved vacation until we figure out what to do next. Let me talk to Hel and I'll call you back in a bit." He paused as he opened the refrigerator door and peered in. "Is Mom okay right now?"

"Oh, she's fine. Just annoyed about slipping down the stairs right after warning me the steps were slippery."

Tad grinned. "Okay. I'll call you back in a bit. Tell her to hang in there."

"Wise words, if not a little late."

He laughed as he clicked off his cell phone.
"Is your mom okay?"

The laptop screen was lowered and Helga was leaning against the counter bar waiting for his answer.

"She slipped down the stairs," he told her as he picked out another bottle and closed the refrigerator door. "Broke her leg in three places, her foot in two and fractured her pelvis."

"Ouch. Go Aggie," Helga muttered wincing. "She really went all out, didn't she?"

"Hey, the Gumblethorpes never do anything half-assed."

"So, why do you need to talk to me?"

"Dad wants me to visit. Or rather, come to help with Mom."

She leaned back on her stool. "Let me guess, you want me to come with? To Hillwood?"

He put the bottle on the counter and leaned forward, a mischievous grin on his face. "Arnold's there. You could spend time with Arnold." He almost sing-songed. Her reaction was perfect. Her cheeks went pink and she scowled at him.

"And so is Lila," she almost snarled. "And everyone else we never wanted to talk to again."

Tad shrugged. "My Dad understands why we left. For him to call me and ask this,"

"It's big, I know." Helga sighed heavily. "How many times have we been back to Hillwood since we left?"

"You? Never. Me? Twice." He answered honestly. "Mom's still the in the hospital for the rest of this week, so we have that much time to figure this out. You don't have to go, but I'd appreciate the backup."

"Of course I'll back you up." She answered immediately as if there was never any question of her not going. "Nobody said I had to see Bob and Miriam."

Tad grinned. "At least you won't have to rent a hotel room." He teased again. She gave him a bland stare.

"I'll reserve a hotel room."

Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd had always known what she wanted: a stable household, marriage to a wealthy man, trips to Milan, Paris, the Cayman Islands, parties. From the time she was old enough to understand that money could get her what she wanted, she had strived to have everything.

She endeavored to be the epitome of what she thought the entitled upper class entailed.

When she married the handsome and very wealthy Dashiell Montague, she thought she had finally achieved everything she'd ever wanted.

Then she had Veronica.

And her world changed. She realized that what she had always wanted was a family. What her parents had; the connection, the love, the support.

Dashiell, however, wanted none of that. He wanted his beautiful wife to continue her partying ways, their trips to Cancun, their parties in Malan.

He couldn't understand why she was suddenly content to stay at home and watch their daughter sleep. Why suddenly she would rather have mashed carrots with Veronica than caviar with him. Why she was happier walking the floors at three am when the baby had colic than being in Paris at three am drinking champagne.

He continued the trips, the parties, the vacations and she stayed home with her daughter.

As Veronica grew, Dashiell tried to pull her along with them to the trips. He was horrified when he discovered that his daughter would rather curl up in a chair with a book than hop on a red eye Concord to go to Fashion Week in Paris.

When Veronica was seven years old, Dashiell demanded a divorce. She was cramping his style, he wasn't father material, he had a new woman to drape over his arm and she was no longer needed.

If she was being honest with herself, she was relieved.

He demanded everything. And she relinquished it all, on the sole condition that he relinquish any and all legal guardianship of Veronica to her, that he pay child support until she turned eighteen and that he set up a college fund for her.

He agreed and within a month, papers were signed and Rhonda and Veronica moved back to Hillwood.

Her parents had offered to help her, to set her up in their home. But Rhonda had finally realized that she didn't need the money or the lavish lifestyle; all she needed came in a small package of a dark haired bespectacled girl who called her Mom.

It was nobody's business why she returned to Hillwood, why she was divorced from Dashiell, why she and Veronica were living in a modest two-bedroom house instead of with her parents.

Rhonda had, after all, earned her title of Queen Bitch in high school and it still served her well now.

Especially at her job.

"Meghan, I don't care what you have to do," Rhonda snapped coldly into her cell phone as she stepped into Green's Butcher Shop. The bell over the door tinkled lightly as it swung shut behind her. "The contracts were promised to be at the designers and they will be at the designer's tomorrow at nine am per our agreement. I left this in your hands because you said you could handle it. Do not make me regret taking a chance on you."

She waited in the back of the three-person line, content to be patient as the women in front of her demanded cuts of meat from the person behind the counter.

"If you can't handle it and I have to come back into the city to take care of this…" Her voice cut through the phone like sharpened icicles. She smiled coldly.

"That's what I thought. And Meghan, I had better see a happy designer tomorrow when I come in."

She swiped off her phone and turned her attention to the teen boy behind the counter, her cold smile turning professionally pleasant in a blink of an eye.

"Good afternoon, I'll have my usual."

The kid blanched, hesitating.

"I have this Jeremy."

Harold Berman stepped out from behind the swinging doors and put his hand on the kid's shoulder. "Go sweep out the back, would ya?"

"Sure Mr. Berman."

Harold fixed Rhonda with an exasperated look. "Quit terrifying my help."

Her professionally pasted smile morphed into a real one. She'd been damn lucky to find real friends once she returned. People who knew her at her worst and still liked her. The fact that their daughters all hung around together didn't hurt.

"Stop hiring easily terrified kids." She teased.

Chuckling, he began pulling out cuts of beef and chicken and wrapping them up, not even bothering to weight them. Rhonda came in every week and ordered the same thing. He knew by now exactly what she wanted and how much.

"Isabella's having a sleep over this weekend, but I'm sure you already knew about it." He said.

"Ten minutes after Izzy made the plans," Rhonda confirmed. "I don't even get asked anymore, it's just assumed."

"For all of us. I didn't even know there were plans until Patty mentioned it to me."

"I guess it's my turn next." The four girls alternated houses at least once a month for sleep overs.

"You can have it this weekend if you want." Harold offered as he handed the white paper package to her over the counter. "We got in some new kabobs I think Ronnie will like. I threw in a couple to test out."

"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.

"Usual price. Just tell her to let me know what she thinks. I'm trying out a new rub."

She paid for the meat and smiled her thanks. "You know if she loves it, you'll never hear the end of it."

He grinned back. "That's what I'm betting on. See you this weekend."

Mrs. Davenport was walking out of the back bedroom when Rhonda walked into the door, trying to juggle her bags, the packages and her keys.

"Oh dear!" the older woman rushed forward, relieving Rhonda of the white wrapped package.

"I'll separate this and pop it into the freezer. Good evening dear!"

"Good evening Mrs. Davenport," Rhonda answered, shutting the door behind her and depositing her keys on the hook next to the entrance. When she returned to Hillwood the one thing her parents insisted on doing for her was employing a housekeeper to come at least twice a week. Which Rhonda accepted because, honestly, she hated cleaning toilets. Now after almost ten years, the older white haired woman was pretty much family.

"Veronica is in the living room working on homework. I honestly don't understand why they give those children so much homework their first week back to school."

Rhonda smiled as she peeked into the living room. Her daughter was sitting on the couch, her book spread out in front of her in an order only she could understand.

"Hey poppet, Mr. Berman gave us some kabobs he wants you to try. Wants your honest opinion on them."

Ronnie took a break from her homework to turn around on the couch and look at her mother. She adjusted her glasses as she smiled. Her daughter rivaled only Harold in their love of spicy food.

"If it doesn't burn my mouth, I'm not giving him a good review." She climbed off the couch and walked to her mother, giving her a hug.

"Mrs. Davenport said you had homework?"

"I'm almost finished. It's just in the AP classes.

"Finish it up, dinner should be in about thirty minutes."

She kissed her daughter's cheek and walked back across the house to the kitchen where Mrs. Davenport was finishing putting away the meat Rhonda had picked up from the butcher.

"I kept those kabobs out, as I figured Veronica would want those for dinner." The older woman said, her nose wrinkling. "Honestly, just smelling them cleared my sinuses." She washed her hands in the sink and turned back as she took off her apron. "I'm going to head out."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner?" Rhonda teased lightly. The woman waved her off, making a face.

"Oh goodness, I'd never be able to sleep tonight if I ate one bite of that. I'll see you on Thursday, dear."

"Good night Mrs. Davenport." Rhonda called out as the woman left. She heard the door close a moment later as she pulled out a grilling pan and began making dinner.

"No phones at the table." Rhonda chastised. Ronnie gave her a sheepish look as she put her phone back in her pocket.

"Sorry," she muttered as she picked up her kabob and bit into it. Rhonda waited a bit for Ronnie's assessment of dinner. Somedays she thought that her daughter could be a great food critic. And then she remembered that she hated prawns.

Ronnie chewed slowly, a look of concentration on her face.

"Well?"

"It has a kick," she finally said. "More of a mango jerk taste. This would be really good on fish, not so much on lamb."

"Well, let Mr. Berman know when you see him next." She picked up her fork and speared a piece of avocado. "Now, what so important that your friends can't wait until after dinner to discuss?"

"Oh, it was Allen. He was snapchatting me from Vegas. He's bored and tired of rehearsing."

If there was one thing that shocked her when her daughter returned from LA over a year ago was her continued friendship with two of the actors from Ever After. Even after hearing about Anne Cummings and Allen Adams nonstop during those five days, four nights, she still fully expected an out of sight, out of mind situation. So, she was stunned when she discovered that both Anne and Allen separately and together still talked to Ronnie. It was a true friendship, in the closest to Hollywood sense of the word. Helga and Tad had done good regarding their actors and how they treated people.

"Well, one message and then phone up until you finish your dinner." She relented. Ronnie grinned and as Rhonda expected, she took a picture of her food and sent a quick message before putting her phone in her pocket and continuing her meal.

"What time do I need to drop you off at Izzy's on Friday?"

"About six. Mrs. Berman said we were good until six the next night."

"I can do that." It also gave her twelve hours to do nothing. Unfortunately, nothing was exactly what came to mind.